61

  News travelled like wildfire in Valderia. Manny Litteragi's memorial service was already the biggest event happening in the city that night. A veritable who's who of the most influential and important people in Valderia and the Free Cities had descended upon the city to take part in what was sure to be a spectacular evening. Manny had somewhat of a high-profile presence around the Free Cities, despite his waning star. But it was the titillating circumstances around his death that had drawn them to the memorial. Besides, the rich and powerful were perennially bored creatures, and it was the perfect excuse to get together for some debauchery.

  Ridley used his contacts in the newspapers to get the afternoon front page with the salacious story that the only survivor from the night Manny died, Gerald Croft, had woken from his coma and was going to recount the final details of Manny Litteragi's life live on stage. This turned the memorial from simply an excuse to dress up and drink to perhaps one of the most tantalising events of the year. The front-page story promised scintillating details and hinted that there was more involved in Manny’s death than a simple overdose. Just the suggestion of skullduggery was enough for the story to take flight and wing its way all across Valderia. Suddenly everyone wanted a ticket to the memorial service, and despite there being no open sale, tickets were being purchased for the price of small homes. Everybody wanted to solve the mystery of what had happened to Manny Litteragi on that fateful night.

  The memorial service was more akin to a festival. The streets around the Umbry Theatre had ground to a complete standstill due to the number of carriages and bodies; the streets and pavements overflowed with them. Partying and drinking had broken out as those who did not have tickets were still determined to have a good time. People in shoes worth more than carriages were forced to abandon their rides and trek down the heaving streets and cobbles towards the theatre.

  Lines formed halfway down the block as people who had never so much as waited for a hot drink in their life were now queuing in the ominous night air. The thunder had started, and while there were only a few drops of rain, the night promised to bring heavy storms again. Lightning flashed across the black clouds, lighting up the cavorting revellers.

  Inside, the theatre was a hive of activity. Many young starlets, actors, and actresses saw this as their opportunity to get noticed by some of the wealthiest and most powerful people across the Free Cities. It was no secret the most influential people within the entertainment industry would be coming that night to celebrate the life of the Manny Litteragi. This could be their big break. The atmosphere did not mirror a sombre memorial but felt more like a high stakes audition. Hopefuls scuttled back and forth anxiously. Makeup artists and hairdressers careened around backstage, chasing young starlets who were so nervous they were on the point of vomiting. Stagehands and the technical teams pushed and shoved and barked at anyone who got in their way. Tension was thick in the air backstage, and none of them even knew that this was all just bait to catch a serial killer.

  "We know our positions?" Nairo asked for perhaps the sixth time already.

  She was feeling the nerves as well. Her palms were sweaty, and the uncomfortable grips outfit that she had disguised herself in didn't help. Fortunately, it was all black and hid the stains of her sweat. Conway, dressed in a surprisingly nice tuxedo, looked just as comfortable as she did. He pulled at the collar around his neck and scratched his beard, which had been nominally combed and tamed for the evening. He had six officers with him, all similarly dressed and undercover. They had only been partly briefed on what was happening tonight and knew to be on the lookout for any suspicious individuals, particularly tall men dressed in black. Wally and Timmy, despite Conway's disapproval, had put their hands up and volunteered for the undercover assignment, dragging themselves from the hospital and refusing to be turned away. However, due to their age and general gawkiness, combined with all the bruising, no one would have believed them as guests, so instead they had been dressed as ushers in matching red blazers and little hats.

  Conway nodded at the officers.

  "Right, you fellas know your roles. I want everybody with their common scrolls at the ready. Any sign of anybody suspicious, or anybody who fits the description, you right in your location, and you don't let that person out of your sight. Do not approach them alone. They are known to be armed and dangerous. Simply follow and wait for backup. Is that understood?"

  The officers nodded and then melted away into the theatre to find their seats in their positions. That left just Nairo, Conway, Timmy, Wally, and Ridley standing backstage.

  "You really think he's gonna bite?" Conway asked.

  "You kidding me?" Ridley said. "This story is gone all over the city and out of it. Everybody loves a bit of titillation, especially when there's sex and death involved, and anybody who knew Manny Litteragi knows there's plenty of that around him."

  "I don't like this," Nairo said, looking at Ridley. "I don't like you being in there by yourself."

  "I won't be by myself, I've got dummy Gerald for company," Ridley said, a forced grin on his face. He was trying to be cavalier, but Nairo saw through him.

  "I could be in there with you," Nairo said. "Or at least Conway."

  "We could always do it," Timmy said in Wally elbowed him in the ribs.

  "Hess is no fool," Ridley said. "He'll be on the lookout for any kind of set up. The more people that are in that room, the more likely he is to get spooked. No offense kid," he said to Timmy. "But I don't think there's many places you could hide up there."

  Timmy gave a nervous little laugh and shrugged his meaty shoulders.

  "When do you think he'll make an appearance?" Nairo asked, tapping her fingers nervously on her thighs.

  "Could be any time," Conway said. "But it has to be before the big reveal. Maybe in the next hour or two."

  "Right lets get moving," Ridley said. "And remember once you're in position stay in your roles and don't look susipicious or act unnaturally. Chances are Hess might be scoping the place out, so just do your jobs and keep your eyes open okay?"

  They nodded and then went to their positions. Conway was to be seated near the stage. Nairo was to work backstage on the fly system, working the curtains and keeping an eye on the stairs that lead up to the office. Timmy and Wally were to man the back exits. Ridley was to hide in the room itself with the mannequin Gerald waiting for Hess. Nairo just hoped that they caught Hess on entry and they didn't need Ridley to get involved. Hess was dangerous and she didn't rate Ridley's his chances going one-on-one with him. She watched Ridley jog his way upstairs his coat swishing by his ankles.

  "Ridley!" She ran upstairs after him and he turned around to face her. "Be careful in there."

  "'Corse Sarge. Don't worry."

  "I'm not worried about you getting hurt," Nairo said, and then she hesitated. "If Hess does appear, just remember you're one of the good guys."

  Ridley's face changed. The sarcastic aura he wore as a shield fractured, and for a moment she saw the darkness behind it. She saw the wounded young man who had lost his mentor. She saw the hurt soul that hadn't grieved. She saw the bitter, vengeful anger that burnt in his heart.

  She knew his intentions, and he knew that she knew, but it remained unspoken between them. Whether Ridley crossed that line or not wasn't up to Nairo. But she knew if he did, it would forever alter their relationship. Ridley looked at her for a few moments longer and then turned and continued his way upstairs wordlessly. Nairo watched him go inside and close the door before making his way back downstairs to her position at the fly system.

  The guests had been filing in for half an hour at this point, and the Comm scrolls remained silent. The signs were beginning to go up for the audience to find their seats and the lights began to dim. Nairo heaved a heavy rope, raising the curtain to reveal a very flattering oil painting of Manny Litteragi surrounded with black reefs and a prop coffin in front of that, which was once again very flattering to the actual size of my Litteragi. The memorial began, and Nairo waited, her jaw tensed.

  *

  "Wot did you go and tell them we would wait in the room for?" Wally said to Timmy

  "I just thought we should back Ridley up," Timmy said defensively.

  "Listen, we've already tangled with that psychopath once and we both almost got killed for it," Wally said. "I don't fancy giving him second go at it. We're just here to keep an eye on things and help out."

  "And what if he comes this way?" Timmy said, waving a hand at the quiet back exit that they were keeping an eye on.

  "Then we report it just like Sergeant Nairo said," Wally replied.

  "Since when do you listen to what Sergeant Nairo has to say?" Timmy shot back.

  "Hey, I'm really big on all that hierarchy stuff alright," Wally said, with an airy wave of his hand.

  "She's not even a Sergeant anymore, remember?" Timmy said. "She is a civilian."

  "And it's our job to serve and protect the public right?" Wally said, waggling his eybrows at Timmy.

  Timmy sighed and rubbed his painfully swollen nose.

  "Do you reckon he'd recognise us?" Timmy asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

  "No way." Wally said. "We looked like a couple of homeless bum is the last time he saw us."

  "Right and now we look like a pair of battered ushers," Timmy said.

  "Exactly, homeless bums don't have jobs," Wally said with a sage nod of his head.

  Timmy fell quiet and gripped the short metal bat he had stuffed up his sleeve. There was another flash of lightning and the rain began to slowly pitter patter down.

  "I have a bad feeling about this," Timmy said.

  "I just hope I don't get stabbed again," Wally said offhandedly.

  "Yeah, you're running our of room."

  *

  The memorial was in full swing now. The theatre was packed to the brim. A dance act had just finished and there were more sad stories of Manny Litteragi being told on stage by some warbling woman in a dress that was three sizes too small. She was some sort of fellow of the arts from one of the other Free Cities who had worked with a young Litteragi. It was strange, the way the lady about Manny you would have thought he was a man at the height of his powers and career. Not a desperate has been pimping women and putting on third rate shows before he stumbled across the starlet Lana LaRue and managed to shoot himself back into some sort of fame once again on her coat tails. Dying the way had seemed to have been the best thing for Manny Litteragi's brand. Nairo wiped her constantly sweating hands, looking over a shoulder every few seconds until she snapped at herself silently to stop being suspicious. If Hess was somewhere around here a grip who kept looking over her shoulder for no reason would definitely spook him. She forced herself to focus on what was going on in front of her. It was time for the opera. The warbling lady accompanied by a very stiff looking orchestra began one of the most powerful brazenly and audacious performances Nairo had ever heard. From this close, her singing made Nairo's ears ring and her teeth rattle. Lightning flashed through the theatres large ceiling windows lending a certain drama to the operatic performance. The rumble of thunder could still be heard even over the orchestra. Rain had begun pelting down on the panes of glass. The storm had begun.

  *

  Ridley had secreted himself into the darkest corner of the office. At first, he had wanted to face the door, but some animal instinct told him that a predator like Hubert Hess wouldn't be coming in the way that other normal human beings did. He seemed to be a man who, despite his impressive size, was surprisingly comfortable with going in and out of windows. So Ridley parked himself behind a large desk, using the shadows to hide himself. They had laid out a bed in the office and set up a mannequin with a large golden wig under the covers as a stand-in for the still unconscious Gerald Croft. Ridley looked at the window, the rain was coming down thick in sheets, obscuring almost all of his vision. Odd flashes of lightning lit the room, and he waited in the darkness.

  He was dying for a smoke or a drink, but he could do neither, so he pushed his hands into his pockets and tucked his chin behind the collars of his coat and sat perfectly still. His heart hammered. His fist curled around the dagger in his pocket, and he felt his breathing getting quicker. Nairo's words rang in his head. Was he one of the good guys? Things like good and bad never really entered into Ridley's self-view. Being a PI generally made you free of those moralistic labels. He didn't fight for truth and justice, he was there to solve cases and pocket gold. But Nairo had this annoying way of making him feel like justice and goodness were actually real and that they mattered. Even worse, his decisions decided which side of those scales he fell on. And even though he pretended not to care, the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Nairo. But then another part, a darker part of him, wondered where putting down an animal like Hubert Hess fell on those moral scales. How many people had he hurt, butchered, maimed, and killed? How many people would he go on to hurt? Would the world not have been better off if someone had ended young Hubert? If a cart had run him over as a boy, if he had drowned in the bathtub, how many lives would be spared of all this misery?

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  Ridley gripped the knife handle so hard it hurt. He knew that if he killed Hubert Hess tonight, it wouldn't be out of a sense of public service or justice; it would be vengeance. Cold, vindictive revenge. Hess had killed Quinn, and that meant that Ridley would kill Hess. It was a rather simple equation in his mind, but Nairo had muddied that equation with morals. And besides, there was still the question of taking in Hess alive so that they could find Schumacker. Ridley glowered in the darkness. Man, he really could do with a smoke.

  Lightning flashed again and lit up the office, and Ridley pondered murder in the darkness.

  *

  The opera was still going and showed no signs of slowing down.

  "Cor, that bird's got some serious pipes on 'er," Wally said.

  Despite being all the way in the bowels of the theatre, they could hear the ringing of the opera singer's voice.

  "Do people really pay all that money to hear that racket?" Wally asked. "I can't even understand wot she's saying! Is she speaking Forreste?"

  "If she is, it's not any Forreste I've heard of before," Timmy said.

  "I'm telling you, rich folk ain't got no sense," Wally said, and Timmy nodded.

  Just as Wally was about to go on a full-blown rant and give his straight-shooting, honest opinion on the wealthy citizens of Valderia, Timmy spied something in the darkness outside. They had kept the back entrance open but had retreated inside due to the rain. The lightning flashed, and he thought he saw a shape in the darkness. He quickly waved a hand at Wally and then pointed in the direction of the door. Wally, sensing something was wrong, peered around, but the darkness was too thick and the rain was too heavy now.

  "Did you see something?" Wally whispered to him.

  "I think I saw a tall, dark figure," Timmy hissed back.

  "Should we message the others?" Wally asked.

  "What if it wasn't him?" Timmy said. "I'm not sure what I saw."

  "Maybe we just say that we saw something but were not sure what it was?" Wally asked.

  "Maybe, and if it is him, I'd rather we had back up," Timmy said, licking his lips nervously.

  Wally nodded vigorously. Timmy took out the Comms Scroll they had been given quickly scribbled a note on it.

  'Possible sighting of a dark figure at back entrance. Not sure.' He added

  After a few seconds, a response came back from Conway.

  'Backup coming. Sending two officers your way.'

  Timmy showed Wally the paper, and they both stood waiting, hands gripping hidden weapons, breathing heavily. There was another flash of lightning, and they both peered into the darkness trying to find the shadowy outline, but there was nothing.

  Timmy looked down at the Comms Scroll.

  "There's been another sighting," he said to Wally quickly.

  They pressed their heads together to read the paper.

  'A tall, skinny man in dark suit seen by main entrance. Didn't have a ticket.'

  'Possible sighting of the shadowy figure around the bar area.'

  From Conway:

  'Split up. Two go to the bar and two go to the main entrance. Two go back up T&W at back entrance. If you see him message immediately.'

  Timmy and Wally gulped, and the lightning flashed again.

  Nairo, one hand gripped around a thick rope, the other secretly reading the scrap of Comm Scroll, felt her heart quicken. She hated that she was stuck here, but she had wanted to be close to Ridley just in case, but now she was regretting it as the sightings began pouring in. None of the officers had actually ever seen Hess, and even though Nairo only really caught sight of him from behind, at least she knew how tall and broad he was. The other officers were just pointing out anybody that was above average height in a dark suit and that could be dozens of men in this building. She gritted her teeth. She hoped Ridley was keeping an eye on the Comm Scroll as well. She looked up at the dark room. This felt wrong. Writing suddenly dashed across the Comm Scroll. She craned her neck to peer at the cramped little note in the dim lights of the backstage area.

  'Sighted man in black moving quickly through the foyer heading towards VIP box possibly trying to make a break for backstage. In pursuit.'

  From Conway

  'All officers converge!'

  From Timmy

  'On the way!'

  From one of the officers

  'Could be holding weapon. Should we identify ourselves as police?'

  From Conway

  'Don't blow your cover. If he runs identify yourself and pursue.'

  Nairo couldn't take it anymore. Nerves got the better of her. She let go of the rope and ran. She headed through the backstage area between the VIP boxes and the stairs that lead to the office. If he was coming for the fake Gerald, he would be coming this way. She took a deep breath and waited, trying to find some shadows and something heavy to grab hold of.

  Where was he?

  *

  Ridley hadn't been paying attention to the Comm Scroll. In fact, he had scrunched it up and thrown it in the bin as soon as it entered the room. He tapped his foot nervously as the conflict inside him grew, and anger was starting to win out. He couldn't help but think about all the things Quinn had done for him in his life. He had taken Ridley in when he was just some gutter trash that no one cared about. He had given Ridley purpose. He had made him into a PI and taught him everything he knew. While Quinn had never been kind, he'd always been good to Ridley, and in Ridley's book that meant a lot. Then he thought of Quinn's daughter, Emily. He kept seeing her, standing in his office crying. He felt tears sting his eyes as anger pulsed through his body. He wanted Hess to appear, and he didn't want any of the others to know. He wanted it to be just him and Hess, so they could settle this. Just as he was remembering the first birthday present Quinn had given him, which was in fact the first birthday present he had ever received, a coat just like Quinn's, lightning flashed, but this time there was a shadow in the window.

  Ridley looked up and saw a dark figure outside the window. There was another boom of thunder, and the figure timed it perfectly, sliding the window open as the thunder rumbled. One long leg spidered its way into the room, followed by an arm, then a head. Lightning flashed again, and Hubert Hess was in the room. He was taller than Ridley remembered, bulkier as well. He was dressed in a long black coat, a black scarf tied around his face, and a black bowler hat on his head, obscuring the part of his face that was uncovered. He moved with assurance, as if the whole world belonged to him and he could do what he liked without consequence. Ridley felt hatred flare in his gut. Ridley knew for certain now, whether it meant he was a good man or a bad man, Hubert Hess had to die.

  Ridley watched him walk across the room, reach into his coat, and pull out a needle that glinted in the half light. Without hesitation, without even a moment of consideration, he reached out to pull the sheets back from Gerald's body and to murder him in his sleep. Ridley didn't hesitate either. He pounced from the shadows and leapt at Hess's back. He raised the dagger, but Hess reacted first. He whipped around and caught Ridley in the side of the jaw with an elbow. Ridley's momentum carried him into the back of Hess, his dagger going wide of its target but still slicing across his shoulder. They barreled into the bed and then onto the floor, knocking over several bits of furniture. Hess tried to scramble to his feet, but Ridley was quicker. He brought his shoe down and stamped on the Hess's gloved hand, crunching the needle and breaking it. Hess grunted but made no other acknowledgement of any pain or discomfort. From one knee, he threw a vicious uppercut into Ridley's stomach and doubled him over. Ridley lashed out with the knife again. It was a wild swipe that barely missed Hess's neck. The big man staggered back, his own dagger appearing in his hand. He stood up, and they circled each other. Ridley had put himself between Hess and the window, meaning that he stood between the murderer and his escape route.

  "Hubert Hess, I presume?" Ridley growled.

  It was too dark to see Hubert's facial expression, but just from the shift of his body, Ridley could tell that hearing his real name had surprised him. "I'm sorry to tell you, you murdering, twice dead, psychopath that the game is up. You and SchumacKer are gonna get buried deep for this!"

  Hess didn't say a word. He continued to circle calmly, trying to find an opening. He darted at Ridley with the knife, aiming for his throat, but this wasn't the first life or death struggle Ridley had been in and certainly wasn't the first with a man bigger than himself. Ridley twisted his body to one side, avoiding the blow and bringing his own dagger up, trying to skewer Hubert through his stomach. Hess snapped out his hand and grabbed Ridley around the wrist, his hand completely engulfing the lower part of Ridley's arm. His grip was like jaws of a hungry pit bull. They tussled for a moment. Hess tried stabbing Ridley again, but Ridley was too quick. He lurched to the side and felt the dull of the blade bounce across Ridley's ribs. Ridley snapped his head forward, catching Hess in the chin, and received a vicious knee to the gut for his efforts. Ridley grunted and threw his body weight into Hess, trying to push him off balance, but the man was strong. They stumbled and threw each other around the room, clattering into furniture, knocking over the desk, and tearing books from the bookshelf. Hess slammed Ridley against the bookshelf, creating enough separation to raise his dagger. In desperation, Ridley grabbed the first thing that came to hand and threw it in front of him. The dagger buried halfway through the thick leather bound tome and stopped only inches from Ridley's heart. Ridley looked up into Hess's eyes and saw them widen in surprise. Ridley took a moment to grin in satisfaction before bringing up his knee into the Hess's groin. Hess was clearly well versed in dirty fighting, however and he just managed to twist his body and take the blow on his hip instead. Ridley spun the book in his hands and pulled the knife from Hess's grip. He swung the book the other way and cracked it across Hess' head knocking his bowler hat off. Hess stumbled back. He was by the door now. He looked from Ridley to Gerald's body, still in the bed, then produced another needle from somewhere and lunged, stabbing the needle down into the mannequin. The needle point bent, and then shattered in Hess's hands. He looked at the needle and then pulled back the covers to reveal the fake Gerald.

  Ridley grinned at him.

  "I'm sorry, mate, Gerald is still asleep in the hospital room bed."

  Realisation dawned in Hess's eyes. He snarled and threw the broken needle into Ridley's face. He spun, opened the door and ran through it. Ridley yanked Hess's dagger from the book cover and chased after the fleeing murderer. Hess was already almost at the bottom of the stairs by the time Ridley got the door. He hurtled down the stairs. Hess knew where he was going. He was familiar with the backstage of the theatre, and he made straight for the fly system. Leaping, he grabbed hold of the thick ropes and began to pull himself hand over hand all the way up. Ridley watched him for a second, cursed, clamped the dagger between his teeth, and then began pulling himself up after him. Ridley was halfway up when he heard shouting from below. He chanced a look down and saw Nairo standing below. She grabbed hold of the rope and began pulling herself up. Ridley looked up again and saw that Hess was crouching on the catwalk with another small dagger in his hand, sawing away at the rope.

  "He's cutting the rope! Get down!" Ridley yelled down to Nairo.

  Nairo looked up and her eyes widened. She let go of the rope. She had only been a few feet in the air and she landed with a thud on the boards. It wouldn't be as easy for Ridley. He was already at least fifteen feet off the ground. He looked to his left and saw some more rigging. He had no idea whether it would hold his weight, but that decision was out of his hands now. He swung out and grabbed hold of the rigging just as the rope snapped. His body jerked. For a second he felt almost weightless, before his weight crashed down against the rigging. He waited for a breathless moment, but the rigging held. He pulled himself up onto the catwalk covering the final few feet out of pure adrenaline in fear. He pulled himself over the parapet to the catwalk, spat the dagger back into his hand, and crouched, waiting for Hess, but Hess was already on the move again. He was running down the narrow catwalk, impossibly agile for a man that big, his black coat flowing behind him as he ran. The catwalk led out into the theatre proper. It spidered its way across to where various bits of lighting and rigging could be set up. Below them the opera was reaching its crescendo, the audience watching in pure rapture, completely unaware of the desperate life-and-death battle taking place above them. Hess had made his way to the very middle of the catwalk when he turned to face Ridley. The catwalk was barely wide enough for one person to walk down, and even then, the outside of their thighs would brush the low railing that was barely knee height.

  Ridley refused to look down. He still felt vertigo dragging at his stomach, and he felt like the catwalk was suddenly wobbly even though he had just seen Hubert Hess charge down it. Ridley didn't wait, he didn't hesitate, he ran the final few steps and met Hess in the middle, slashing at him with his dagger, trying to cut him from collarbone to hip. Hess just narrowly avoided the blow and almost stumbled over the edge of the catwalk. He was tall enough to reach up and grab hold of the rigging above them and used that to steady himself. He slashed with his own small dagger, slicing Ridley across his shoulder. Ridley accepted the cut so he could get close enough to try and stab Hess again. The catwalk shook under their feet, and again they fell into a tussle, locked together, too close to stab, hands locked on wrists, eye to eye.

  "You killed Quinn, you bastard!" Ridley spat through gritted teeth. "You killed my friend!"

  And he saw nothing in Hess's eyes. Those dark, wicked eyes registered nothing. Finally, he spoke.

  "Who?" His voice was muffled under the scarf, but the complete lack of care rang through.

  He didn't even remember who Quinn was! The rage boiled over in Ridley. He smashed his head into Hess' mouth. They both stumbled as the catwalk shook violently. Ridley didn't care. He threw himself dagger first at Hess' heart, if it even existed. Hess lashed out with his open hand, slamming Ridley across the ear and throwing the dagger off target. He twisted his body as he did, and the catwalk groaned, threatening to go down with them both. Ridley overbalanced and cried out, his knee hitting the railing, his momentum carrying him forward. The dagger fell from his hand. In desperation he reached out, trying to grab Hess. He caught the trailing end of his scarf. Hess pulled himself away before Ridley could drag him over the edge, and the scarf came loose. Lightning flashed and lit up the entire catwalk, and as Ridley fell, he looked into the face of Hubert Hess and recognised him. Ridley flew over the railing, tumbling as he did, and just managed to grab hold of the railing. The catwalk juddered under his weight as he held on desperately. The unmasked Hubert Hess stood over him, ready to deliver the final blow.

  "Stop!"

  Hess and Ridley both looked down the other end of the catwalk and saw Nairo charging towards them with the officers behind her. Hess made a quick calculation. He looked down at Ridley, his lip curling with hate, before he turned and ran, knowing they would stop to pick up Ridley, buying himself valuable seconds. He sprinted towards the ladder that led to the hatch in the ceiling windows. In seconds he was up the ladder and pushing open the heavy window, and he was gone, the last thing they saw was his coat tails flapping, and he disappeared out of view. Nairo reached over the railings and dragged Ridley back over, barking orders at the officers. Nairo heaved Ridley back onto the catwalk and tried to pull him to his feet.

  "Quick! Come on, we're going to lose him!" She screamed desperately over the rising climax of the opera.

  Ridley, panting deeply, sweat pouring down his face and blood congealing on his shoulder, shook his head.

  "No point," Ridley panted. "He's already got away."

  "No, we can't just... we have..." Nairo began, then Ridley held up his hand to stop her, a dark look on his face.

  "There's no need. I know where he is going."

  "Where?"

  "Back to the Schumacker estate, where he's been the whole time."